


Raw Wounds

by Yalu



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anger, Gen, Injury, Jealousy, Post-Hunt, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-26
Updated: 2015-07-26
Packaged: 2018-04-11 07:20:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4426394
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yalu/pseuds/Yalu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>If Sam had been there, this would never have happened.</i>
</p><p>Dean deals with the fallout of a bad hunt after Sam leaves for Stanford.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raw Wounds

If Sam had _been _there, this would never have happened.__

"Dean, hand me the bandages," said Dad from the motel bed. "No, the big one."

Fuck: They'd only changed out his bandages an hour ago. Dean picked up the widest strip of flannel cut from his ex-shirt and brought it over. "Dad, if it keeps bleeding we gotta risk a hospital."

"I'm _fine_."

The ghost had raked him down the thigh with a hedge clipper. Dean had put forty-two stitches in him while Dad chewed a belt and chugged Jack Daniels. There was enough blood in the carpet for even the skeeviest motel manager to call the cops. They'd have to sneak off after midnight and hope to get to the next state unnoticed. And ditch these credit cards. And the state trooper IDs. Damn, that'd taken six hours of work.

(Sam was always better at those.)

Dean hovered while Dad unwrapped the strips of flannel from his leg, watching for any sudden flow of blood from the gashes, but only crusty brown flakes spilled out onto the sheets. The stitching was messy but nothing looked infected. Yet. They could probably get Dad to the car without tearing anything too badly. 

Dad grabbed the disinfectant, shuffled back to brace himself against the headboard, belt in hand, and paused. Dean dutifully turned away before the work began. Dad could handle it now. 

He dropped back into his seat at the table and pretended not to hear the grunts that turned into moans of pain. He turned the TV louder – so the neighbours wouldn't hear. 

_Dammit, Sammy._

If Sam had just _been_ there this would never have happened. He could've watched Dad's back. They'd had to split up to grab the last two of the four matching lockets with Jemimah Forrest's hair in them (yeah, that's a great gift to leave your kids, especially when you hate them all), and while Dean had broken into the house to talk Jane Forrest out of hers, Dad had gone to the tool shed, where the last vic had died, to search for the missing one.

Why the bitchy old lady was haunting out there and not inside with the last surviving kid, Dean didn't know, but he was working his ass off to find out. The local library was all digitised so he'd got printouts of everything with the old bat's name in it when they started this case, but reading it all took so long that the third vic got his head bashed in before they found the photo with the four lockets. After that, they'd run off to save Jane, so now Dean was leafing through the rest of the articles, looking for some kind of explanation.

(Dad didn't care; they'd got the ghost, they'd saved who they could, they could go now, but Dean wasn't satisfied.)

Five minutes later, he found it in the caption of a grainy, badly scanned article.

_Jemimah Forrest, 63, wins the Glenfield Gardening Championship for the 4th year in a row._

See, little things like that? Those are what Sam would've noticed, would've remembered. He'd saved their asses a few times with stuff like that. He could've saved Dad this time. If he hadn't gone off to fucking _Stanford_ , everything would be fine. 

The thin, cheap motel room glass holding Dean's whiskey shattered in his hand. _Fuck, not more stitching–_

But his hand wasn't bleeding and Dad was still too distracted to notice. Dean scrambled to clean up before he did, swearing at Sam the whole time. It was his fault. It _was_. And all the stuff that was going to go wrong from now on was on him too, and right now, Dean hated him for that. Hated him for not caring, for taking off on his own like they didn't _matter_. Hated him because he was probably drunk off his ass right now, making out with college girls and getting awesome grades and because he was going to be a lawyer with a house and a wife and everything he ever wanted and Dean...

Dean was going to be stuck here, doing jobs with Dad, forever. 


End file.
